Suggestion Obsession Awake
by Daphne22
Summary: A ghost's mind can be a fragile thing. Will Danny prove to be more than just a ghost before something awful happens? Or will his darkest desires overtake him? DxS
1. Prologue

Hello all. This one won't go up nearly as quickly as the last one did. It's also a bit longer and darker than my other piece but hopefully it will work.

**Disclaimer: I don't own Danny Phantom but I do have a kickin' record collection. And I like to use both of them for my own amusement.**

Danny perched on the roof of a towering office building, his feet dangling off the edge and the lights of Amity Park spread out beneath him. He stared out at his town, focusing on nothing in particular, just sitting and thinking. The chilly autumn wind whipped around him, sending his hair flying in all directions, although in his ghostly form he hardly noticed the cold.

Danny felt hethought better as a ghost. It wasn'tas ifhe wasn't often confused or perplexed or even just as oblivious as he was when he was human form, he was. He was still Danny after all. But he was a less distracted Danny, a Danny with a freer mind.

In the beginning he'd ascribed it to being able to fly, that sense of calm that overtook him when he soared through the air for the pleasure of it. In those moments flying felt like the feeling of flying in dreams. But it wasn't just flying, it wasn't that feeling of controlled weightlessness, or looking down at the world from a much higher place.

There is a clarity that comes when the body is silenced. The million functions that rumble around the human form as breath is exchanged, the stomach shifts, and the heart beats, make a cacophony compared to the stillness of death. To be alive is to have a consciousness constantly fighting to be heard over the million demands of the body. To be dead is to have a consciousness alone, with nothing to interrupt it.

The thought made Danny shiver slightly. He didn't like to think of himself as dead or even partially dead.

Too much thinking, he decided, springing up from the roof. He needed to get home, anyway. If there was anything his mind needed to be focused on it was homework. It was only a few months into his senior year and he was already behind in school. He bit his lip as he soared towards his house, a new set of worries rolling through his mind, this time focused on the mundane problems of life.


	2. Monday

"Is it Friday, yet?"

"Danny, that was just Monday."

The boy slammed his locker shut with a grunt. "I was hoping you wouldn't say that."

Sam smiled. He was so cute when he was disgruntled. "You'll live," she said, leaning forward, placing a hand on one cheek and softly kissing the other. She hadn't grown much since their freshman year and so she had to stand on her toes a little to reach him. Danny let the disgusted look fall from his face and be replaced by a small, shy smile.

Their on again off again relationship was once again "on" as the pair struggled yet again to figure out what exactly it was they should be together. There was no lack of feelings between the two of them, that was the simple part. They were, however, still growing up and constantly surprised when things never seemed to work out the way they thought they should. Jealousies, tempers, and misunderstandings leaped up and fizzled while the pair slowly learned that, sadly, relationships were _work._

"If I have to do one more problem that takes half an hour just to set up, I'm going mental." Danny's attention was pulled away from the girl in front of him as Tucker came bounding down the hallway, one hand pulling his PDA out of his pocket, the other one pushing up the glasses that were sliding down his nose.

"Tucker, you're the one who decided to take calculus." Sam reminded him.

"It's calc two, thanks very much."

"Either way, it's too much math for me!" She said holding her hands out in front of her. "Keep away, I might catch number cooties or something."

"Ooh, Sam, what if the math ghost tries to catch you?" Danny leaned forward, making his voice comically creepy and wavering.

"Beware! I am the ghost of higher math! I have dominion over all logarithms and polynomials!" Tucker leaned in, holding his hands up near his face, with the fingers curled.

"Beware!" Both boys shouted at once.

"Knock it, off!" Sam said, trying to act perturbed but finding it especially difficult to do through a fit of giggles. "Can we get out of here already? Every moment I stay here I feel my soul being sucked further and further into a void of mediocrity."

"You know most people would just say, 'hey you want to go to the record store' or something like that."

"Whatever, Danny. Most people are boring."

Tucker looped an arm around her shoulder, as the trio made their way down the hall and out of school. "And that's what I've always loved about you, Sam. Your bright and cheerful personality."

"Oh, whatever."

Danny's attention drifted away from his playfully bickering friends as he started whistling the Ghostbuster's theme as they walked. Lately, he'd found that hilarious, and just humming it was enough to send him into a fit of laughter.

"At least I have better sense of humor than this one," she said pointing her thumb at Danny.

"Hey, what wrong with my..." Danny shivered and his breath came out in a visible puff. "ghost sense, which means I have to go. I'll see you guys later." Danny gave his friends a curt wave before darting around the corner of the school and hiding behind a dumpster. There was a flash of white light and a ghost in the shape of a young manshot into the air.

His head jerked around, looking for the thing or things that had set him off. Crouched on a small, empty side street, was a pair of ghostly, large cat-like creatures, licking their chops, and preparing to pounce. A smile broke out on the resolute ghost boy's face. He'd fought these before and knew that even though they were the size of lions, they were really just pussy cats.

"Here kitty, kitty!" He yelled as he dove down towards them. Both cats looked up in surprise. A shot of energy flew out of Danny's right hand, smacking one of the ghosts squarely between the eyes and sending it flying into the brick wall of a nearby building. The second cat took it's chance and leaped up snarling.

"Stupid boy!" It yelled, in a surprisingly human voice.

"Silly kitten!" Danny yelled back, hurtling towards the leaping cat. He few just low enough to throw a punch at the cat's chest while it was still in mid-leap. The blow landed with an extraordinary force and the second cat was tossed backwards, reeling from the punch and crashing into its friend.

Danny swooped down near them and unscrewed the top of the Fenton Thermos. "And now it's time to put the cat _in_ the bag." A beam of light shot out from the device and in a moment the two ghosts were dragged into the impossibly small space, howling and swearing the entire time. Danny looked at the thermos contemplatively. "Or put the cat in the thermos, I guess." He chuckled a little at his own joke.

"See?" said a voice behind him. "I told you I have a better sense of humor."

"Hey!" Danny turned around to confront the girl dressed in black and purple behind him. "I thought it was funny."

"And that," said Tucker, "is her point."

Danny started to reply but stopped himself. He felt a strange chill. It wasn't his ghost sense, but rather the distinct feeling that he was being watched. Danny slowly turned around to confront his onlooker, only to find no one there. His eyes, scanned the horizon, looking for something, anything. Then he saw, far off in the distance, a man dressed in dark colors, bent over, as if he were leaning on a cane. Danny was about to say something, when a blinding light shot towards him. The world hummed and spun under his feet. As his vision returned everything seemed tinged with pink and red and less than solid.

"Danny... Danny?" Sam's voice came to him as if from a distance. Danny turned around to face her and Tucker the world slowly melting into normalcy again.

"Huh, what?"

"Are you okay? You sort of drifted off."

"Didn't you see that? What the heck was that light?"

Tucker and Sam looked at one another. "What light?" They said together.

"There... there was this guy. And then this pinkish light... really bright." Worried looks crossed his friend's faces. Sam stepped forward and placed a single hand on his cold cheek.

"Are you all right?" She looked unnerved and Danny felt a wave of guilt for making her worry. He was probably just over tired.

"I'm fine," he said. "I probably just haven't been sleeping enough lately." A familiar white light flashed over the ghost boy's body and an ordinary black-haired young man was left standing in his place. "You want to go to the record store? I'll get you that new Social Chaos CD you want."

Worry and happiness fought their way across Sam's face. She decided to let the happiness win.

"I guess that makes up for scaring me."

Tucker playfully put a hand on Danny's shoulder. "Gee, I was worried, too. Can I have a CD?"

Danny smacked his hand away and grinned at his friend. "Not unless you look like my girlfriend."

Tucker laughed. Sam rolled her eyes.

"See what I mean? The boy has a lousy sense of humor."


	3. Tuesday

"_They say that when good Americans die they go to Paris," chuckled Sir Thomas..._

"_Really! And where do bad Americans go when they die?" inquired the Duchess._

"_They go to America," murmured Lord Henry._

_- The Picture of Dorian Gray_

**This chapter is a bit fluffy. I hope that's okay. Things will start moving more quickly soon, I promise.**

**-Daphne**

* * *

"Mr. Fenton. Mr. Fenton." Lancer's voice came towards Danny, as if from a distance. The world swam in front of his eyes, as if he were seeing it through thick rose colored glass. "Mr. Fenton!" 

"Wha...?" Danny shook his head and focused on his teacher. The classroom zoomed into clarity, the glass melting away and the distance between himself and reality closing.

"Mr. Fenton, if you're going to doze off in my class, at least do us the favor of looking like you're asleep so I'll know to wake you up." Mr. Lancer stood at the front of the room, pointing at Danny with a piece of white chalk and wearing an agitated look on his face. "Now, would you care to answer the question?"

It was bad enough having Mr. Lancer for English his freshman year but having the man again for the same subject his senior year was pure torture.

"Um, I'm sorry, what was the question?"

"Is Dorian responsible for corrupting himself or is Lord Henry to blame?"

Danny's eyes scanned the blackboard looking for a hint of the answer. He saw three subject headings labeled "gothic," "symbolism," and "morality tale," but no information that helped him.

"It's Dorian's fault?" The response came out more as a question than an answer.

"Why." Lancer demanded.

Danny thought quickly. He'd barely skimmed the bizarre story over the weekend. "Because ultimately we're the only ones responsible for our own actions."

"All right, does anyone agree or disagree with what Mr. Fenton said? Is Dorian responsible for his own actions or are other forces to blame?" Another girl raised her hand. "Yes, Ms. Byer?"

"I think Dorian is a result of circumstances that Wilde sets up in his story..." Danny let his mind wander again as the girl droned on. He'd felt like he had the day before when he saw the man and light. Maybe he should tell Tucker and Sam. On the other hand, they would only worry. It would probably be better to talk to them after he'd at least partially figured out what was going on. It might be that he was just tired.

"And don't forget, that's five pages, double spaced, font size no larger than twelve, and on my desk by Friday."

And about to get even more tired, apparently.

* * *

"Ms. Kunst said my art project was too dark and that I had to pick a new subject." Sam slammed her lunch tray down in front of Danny. "She said it wasn't appropriate for high school. Can you believe that? What about freedom of expression? What about my own artistic vision? Hell, what about the first amendment? She can't..." Sam stopped herself mid rant. Danny was sitting perfectly still, his eyes glazed, his jaw somewhat slack. "Danny? Are you okay? Danny?" He blinked but didn't move. She waved her hand in front of his eyes. "Goth girl to ghost boy, come in ghost boy. You are really freaking me out here." He blinked repeatedly at the small hand in front of his face, recognition dawning in his eyes. Danny smiled and gently placed Sam's hand on the table.

"Sorry about that. What's up?"

"Are you okay? I was raging about my art class and you were totally blanked out. It was pretty creepy." Sam stabbed a fork into her salad, a worried look on her face.

"I'm fine. Just tired."

"This doesn't have anything to do with what happened last night does it? You sort of had the same look on your face."

"I'm cool, I swear." Danny picked up his sandwich and took an enormous bite. "See? Hungry, just like a healthy, growing boy."

"One, eww, you're talking with your mouth full and I can see everything. Two, I hate it when you do this." Sam stabbed her salad again. She had yet to eat any.

"Do what?"

"When you won't tell me what's going on."

"I told you, it's nothing. Can we drop it?"

The pair stared at each other across the table, tensioncrackling in the air.

"Fine."

"Fine." They ate in silence for a moment and Sam found herself wishing that Tucker had the same lunch period instead of the one before. "So, do you want to hear about what horrible Ms. Kunst did to me or not?"

"I thought you loved Art."

"Not this semester. I don't know what changed but she's been being awful." Danny listened as Sam launched into her rant for the second time that afternoon.

* * *

Danny and Sam lay their backs on her queen sized bed. She was propped up on a pair of pillows, while he lay perpendicular to her, using her stomach as his own pillow. They both held thin volumes above their faces, while Sam read out loud.

"'You and I are what we are, and will be what we will be. As for being poisoned by a book, there is no such thing as that. Art has no influence upon action. It annihilates the desire to act.'1 What the heck is that supposed to mean?"

Danny dropped his book on Sam's dark purple comforter. "I have no idea." He rolled over to face her, his head still on her stomach. Sam put her book down as well and met with the blue eyes staring up at her.

"What?" she said, running her hand through his dark hair, in a protective gesture. Danny was thinking something and it bothered her not to know what.

"Nothing."

"Nothing?"

Danny curled up and squeezed her middle, pushing his head into her stomach. "I just like this better than studying."

"You are so cute," Sam said, amused at the boy so actively cuddled up against her.

"Mel, more buniful." Came a voice muffled by her shirt.

"What?"

Danny released his grip on her slightly and looked up at her amethyst eyes. "Well, you're beautiful."

Sam felt her face grow slightly warmer. Damn, that he still has that affect on me, she thought. Danny grabbed her left hand and kissed the palm of it, his eyes never leaving hers. Sam shivered slightly and stroked his cheek with the complimented hand. He smiled in response, then turned to her stomach and began leaving small kisses on the flat surface. She let her hands rest in his hair, loving the sensation of it as he made his way to her solar plexus, pushing her shirt up just below the breasts. He leaned forward slightly and softly kissed her right breast through her shirt.

"I think I like this one best."

"This one what?"

Danny ran his hand up her side and cupped the small breast in his left hand. "I like this breast, I think it's my favorite."

Sam giggled. "Your favorite breast?"

Danny leaned over and kissed the left one, shifting himself so that he was on top of her now and holding the left breast with his right hand. "Of course, I really like this one, too." Sam giggled again. Danny looked up at, with a faux innocent look in his eyes. "Can I keep them?"

"My breasts?" Sam laughed.

"Yeah, I think they're nice." He squeezed them lightly. "Not to big, not too small."

"What am I, Goldilocks?" She said, pulling his hands away and slipping them into her own. Danny removed, one hand and ran it through her hair.

"Not even close, Miss Spooky McDarkpants."

"Now that's a nickname, I don't want to keep."

Danny leaned down and kissed her lightly on the lips.

"Well?" He said grinning mischievously.

"Do I get to keep them?"

"I'll tell you what," the girl said, pulling him in for another kiss. "I'll let you borrow them, sometimes."

"Woo." He whispered softly, making them both giggle again as their mouths met.

Something was still tugging at the back of Sam's mind but she let it slip for now. It was hardto think when her body was doing it for her.

* * *

_1) The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde, chapter 19._

**This doesn't need to be M, does it? I wasn't really planning on fluff but the teenagers got away from me. Oh well, they're young. Let'em have fun.**


	4. Wednesday

**Thanks to all my lovely reviewers for your encouragement. I'm having fun with this but you guys make it about a dozen times better.**

* * *

Danny woke up that morningchoking on a world of red glass. Reality swam around him, distant and dark, the color of wine beating against his eyes. His breath felt ragged and desperate, as if he were trying to breath at ten thousand feet through a piece of felt. Yet, his body too felt far away, as if he were feeling the sensations of someone else, the whole thing a strange theatrical act that somehow entertained all his senses. In the back of his head something tugged at his mind. Just let go, the something said. Let go of what you are trying to hold on to. Push through, come out the other side and everything will be all right.

* * *

"Hey, Danny." Danny heard Tucker's voice come swimming towards him and realized he had blanked out yet again. "Are you okay, man?"

"I'm fine. I'm just really tired." It was a lie but Danny didn't feel like telling the truth.

"You do look pretty wasted." The darker boy shoved a book inside his back pack and slammed his locker door. "Are we waiting for Sam?"

"She said she'd meet us at the Nasty Burger. She's got to work on her art thing for a while before she can leave."

"Now, that's funny."

"What?" Danny asked as the two made their way out of the school.

"You're leaving school on time and Sam has to stay after."

"Ha ha ha." Danny said, dryly.

"Hey," Tucker laughed. "I'm just pointing out the obvious."

* * *

"Dead Earth 3 comes out on Friday, are you still going in on a copy with me?" Tucker fished out a french fry, excitement twinkling in his eyes.

"Hell yeah." Danny leaned forward, intensely interested. "The screen shots for that game were awesome."

"Whatever." The comment was punctuated by a soda being loudly set on the table. A small girl with thick eyeliner, a short black skirt, and heavy steel toed boots, plopped into the booth next to Danny. "They spent all their time working on graphics in the last game but the game play sucked."

"Hi, to you too," said Danny.

"Yeah, but Dead Earth one rocked." Tucker said barreling over his friend's comment. "And they got the same design team as the first one for three. That was the problem with the second one. The company hired different people to work on it."

Sam snorted. "I'll believe it's good when I see it. I heard that they kept most of the changes in play from two. Do you remember how impossible it was to aim in two?"

Danny shivered next to her, his breath becoming visible despite the warm greasy air of the fast food restaurant. "I gotta go. Try not to kill each other before I get back." Danny dashed off to the men's room and one flash of light later he was high above the Nasty Burger, he's eyes scanning the area for trouble.

Trouble was not hard to find. There were screams coming from the parking lot, as a group of teenagers turned on their heels and ran from the figure looming above them. The figure looked like a knight might, if he had had his armor redesigned by a twenty-second century mad scientist. The basic shape of the helmet and the armor was still there but it was very flexible and somehow allowed the figure to fly. Reddish light poured menacingly from the helmet and Danny could here it laugh as it zoomed right and left terrifying everyone in it's path.

"Hey, Mr. Dark Ages! Why don't you joust with someone who can fight back?" He yelled, flying towards the knight. Its head jerked up to meet the foe hurtling towards it as it let out a terrifying cackle. It raised up its right arm, clenching and then opening its fist. A dozen darts flew out of its hand towards Danny. The white-haired young ghost simply turned intangible and felt the darts pass through him with no resistance, as if he were made of air.

"Is that the best you can do?" He yelled, sending a series ectoplasmic blast out of his hands. The knight dodged all save the last, which sent it smashing to the ground. "Ha! Time to say goodnight!" The boy held his white gloved hands over his head, forming a powerful ball of energy. "Get it?" He laughed. "'Good knight!"

A red blast shot out of the knight's visor a moment before Danny threw his energy ball. The shot hit the boy square on the chest, sending him flying through the air before crashing into the wall near the front door of the restaurant, where Tucker and Sam had appeared to watch the battle.

"What is that thing?" Danny growled.

"Dude, you really need to read more comic books," Tucker said nervously. "That's Knightmare, from the Fledermaus Future series."

"Why the hell is there a comic book supervillian here in the real world?" Danny dodged another blast aimed for him, pulling Sam and Tucker out of the way as well.

"I'd say that's a pretty good question." Tucker managed to yell as was yanked ten feet to the left.

"Well, whatever you're doing here, you're going down!" The ghost yelled, once again flying into the air and charging at the bizarre knight. Danny pulled his arm back, ready to sock the thing straight in the face but as he went in for the punch, his fist passed harmlessly though. "What?" He said out loud.

The knight however, was fading into the background as if being drawn to whatever source had projected it. Danny watched fascinated, as its form faded to a mess of colors, which in turn slid backwards through the air, until they were swallowed by a comic book.

Holding the comic book was a ghost in the form of a young boy, Danny judged that he looked no more than ten years old. He was perched on top of a parked car, reading intently and grinning madly. Danny was confused. Why hadn't he noticed him before? He swooped down, landing directly in front of the boy.

"You better not do that again, kid." The young boy didn't answer. He merely giggled and turned the page on the comic book which, Danny noticed, was in fact a Fledermaus Future comic. "Hey, kid. I'm talking to you." Again, the ghost didn't answer. Danny gritted his teeth in frustration, at the same time keeping an eye out in case something odd and comic book related jumped out at him. "Are you paying attention to me? I said, you better not do that again or I'll suck you into my thermos and send you back to the ghost zone." The boy giggled again and looked at him.

"I'll do it if I want. I like seeing them alive."

Danny snatched the comic book from his hand and grabbed the ghost by his collar. "Listen punk..." Suddenly a strange feeling washed over him and he felt his fingers loosen. That was right. Just let the boy go.

"Go home. Someone's waiting for you." Danny set the ghost child down and handed him back his comic book. With out any hesitation the boy nodded and flew off.

"Danny?" He turned around, Sam's voice calling to him from behind. "What was that? Why did you just let him go?" Her brow was knitted and worried look was etched into her violet eyes.

Danny said nothing. He just stared at her silently, his face a blank slate, his eyes flashing red.


	5. Wednesday Night

**A cookie for everyone who gets the joke Tucker remembers. Also a retroactive cookie for anyone who can tell me what the title "Fledermaus Future," from the last chapter, parodies.**

**Disclaimer: Do I need to say that I don't own these guys again?**

* * *

"Danny? Danny?" A somewhat shaken goth stepped forward and gently took a hold of a softly glowing single white gloved hand. His red eyes followed her, an eerie intelligence creeping in behind them as they focused on her face. "Danny?" She squeezed his hand. A single eyebrow shot up in response and the barest trace of a smile crossed his lips. 

"Danny!" Tucker approached his friend and grasped him by the shoulder. "What's going on, man?"

The phantom shook his head quickly and blinked rapidly. The blood color drained from his eyes and was replaced by their usual spectral green. "Huh? Wha...? Why are you guys all freaked out?"

"Danny, you let the bad guy go and then you completely blanked. And then you had this creepy look on your face and... Well, something weird is going on!"

Danny glanced around. People were beginning to drift back to the Nasty Burger parking lot now that it was safe again. "Can we talk about this at my house?"

Tucker shrugged. "That's probably a good idea."

"Great. I'll see you guys there in bit." A flash of white and black soared into the air and out of sight.

Sam pushed the hair out of her face, disheveled by the gust caused by his sudden departure. "Thanks for the ride," she muttered.

"Come on. You know that would have been a bad idea."

The girl sighed. "You're right." She could hear the murmurs of "Danny Phantom" "Inviso-Bill" and "wow," growing around them.

"Besides," said Tucker, "we have to get our bags. And I think Danny left his backpack."

"What would he do without us?"

"Lose all his stuff?" Tucker smiled at his friend, opening the door to the Nasty Burger. Sam smiled back. Tucker was good at that, making her forget when she was annoyed and distracting her when she was upset. It was one more excellent reason she was glad he was her friend.

* * *

"Here's your bag." Tucker dropped the backpack on the floor as he and Sam walked into Danny's bedroom. 

"Thanks." The raven-haired young man barely looked up from where he was sitting on the bed. He had the air of child who was about to get in trouble.

"Danny?" Sam sat down next to him and placed a hand on his knee. "I'm getting really worried. You've been acting odd the last couple of days."

"I told you I was tired."

"Tired doesn't change the color of your eyes, dude." Tucker collapsed into a bean bag chair across from the couple.

"My eyes changed color? What color?"

"Red."

"Red." Danny echoed the word, as if it held a particular significance.

"That's the same color your eyes were when Freakshow was controlling you, way back when." Sam squeezed his knee even harder. Danny picked her hand up in response and held it in his. Her fingers were, as usual, surprisingly cold compared to his human hands.

"Why are your hands always so cold? I swear you're part ghost."

"Danny." Her voice had a nagging edge. Don't change the subject, it said.

"What? So you think someone's trying to control me?"

"Its possible," Tucker said.

"You guys. I'm not being controlled. Geez, I get a little tired and suddenly the world is falling apart."

Sam slipped her hand out from Danny's. "Well, I'm sorry we're worried about you but something weird is happening and you won't tell me what's going on."

"Nothing is going on!"

"Why do you always have to do this?"

"Um, guys?" Tucker tried to interject.

"Do what?"

"You never tell me anything! Whenever something's going on in that head of yours, oh no we can't tell Sam Manson, she'll just freak out!"

"Well, you are freaking out!"

Tucker thought about trying to say something again but the discussion had pretty quickly devolved into a lover's spat. Instead he stared at the stitching on the bean bag chair and wished his friends would shut up or at least give him a convenient excuse to leave the room.

"I'm sorry but I think I have a good excuse to freak out!" Sam was growling.

"Why? Nothing is happening to you."

"So you admit it, something is happening!"

"Oh, for crying out loud..." Danny got up and paced over to the window. His fingers drumming loudly on the glass.

"Don't walk away from me while we're having a conversation."

"We're not having a conversation, you're fighting with me," Danny snapped.

"_I'm _fighting with _you?_" Sam said incredulously. "Oh, please."

"I'm sorry, but you're the one who started yelling."

"I'm not yelling!" Sam shouted. "Come on Tucker, we're going." Sam stood up, fuming. Tucker glanced between his friends. He hated it when they fought and didn't want to be a part of it. On the other hand Sam was sort of scary at the moment and he really didn't want to stay where he was. He raised his eyebrows at Danny and a knowing look passed between the two friends.

"Come on, Tucker!" Sam was standing by the bedroom door. Her raging, black lined, violet eyes fixed on the boy on the other side of the room, who fixed her with an equally powerful blue-eyed glare. "We'll come back when you feel like talkinglike a rational human being." The eyes staring back at her flashed a brilliant green. "Or whatever the hell you are," shespat coldly,storming out of the room.

And with a final apologetic look from Tucker, Danny was left alone.

* * *

Tucker Foley sat in his room, with a 2001 Dell laptop in front of him. Half of its parts were removed and scattered around in a somewhat organized mess. The laptop had been Sam's but she'd gotten rid of it when she'd gotten a new one for her birthday last summer. Tucker had some interesting ideas about overclocking the thing and it had been his project for the last couple of weeks. 

The boy stared intently at the electronics in front of him, deftly maneuvering wires and computer chips. He liked technology for a reason, that reason simply being he understood it. Things worked in a specific way and for a specific reason. If something unexpected happened there was always a cause. The cause could be discovered and corrected. The unknown never remained unknown for long. Technology was the laws of math made flesh, cold capable numbers brought to life in the real world.

There are 10 types of people in the world, he thought to himself, those who understand binary notation and those who don't. Tucker chuckled remembering the joke.

His cell phone rang, real life intruding on his mechanical world.

"Hey, Tuck." It was Danny.

"Hey, Danny, what's up?"

"Sorry about the whole argument thing earlier."

"That's okay. You guys fought before you were dating, it's not like I'm not used to it."

There was an intake of breath on the other end of the phone and it sounded like Danny was about to say something. "Yeah." He finally said, although Tucker knew what hung in the dead air. What happened, Danny was thinking. Why was she getting so worked up? Why did Sam have to act like such a _girl._

That was the awesome thing about best friends. Their silence could speak for them.

"Anyway," Danny said. "What pages were we supposed to read for History? I forgot to write them down."

"Lemme see." Tucker dug into his back pack and pulled out his notes. "One ten to one forty-seven."

"Cool, thanks."

"No prob."

"All right, I'll see you tomorrow, then."

"Hey, Danny?"

"Yeah?"

"Not to be obnoxious or anything but are you sure you okay?"

"I'm fine, dude." Danny reassured him.

"Cool."

"See you."

"Bye."

No sooner was Tucker seated in front of his computer when his cell phone went off again. He checked the caller ID.

"Hey, Sam."

"Hey, Tuck."

"What's up?" There was a pause. A pregnant pause, in fact, and Tucker knew what was coming next. Sam's closest friends has always been boys but occasionally she did need to act like a girl, so to speak. Tucker didn't mind filling that role but it wasn't one he relished. Being an emotional sounding board in her relationship with his other best friend was definitely something he did out of affection for his friend, not out of any sense of fun on his part.

"Nothing," the girl's response finally ended the pause.

"Liar."

"Fine, I'm lying."

"So honestly, why did you call?"

"I dunno, I just feel weird about what happened earlier."

"The fight?"

"Yeah and everything else, too."

Tucker gave one last forlorn look at the abandoned computer and turned his attention to his friend.

"So?" He asked inquisitively.

"It's just... Well, every time I get worried about him, he pushes me away. And it's not like it's the first it's happened. You know it's not. I mean, I'm his girlfriend, don't I get to be worried about him? Or is this some dumb thing with his hero complex?"

"His hero complex?"

"Yeah. Danny always saves the day. Danny always gets the bad guy. No matter how many times I help him or I save him he's always the hero."

"Well he kinda is, isn't he?"

"That's not the point! The point is... I don't know." Sam's voice trailed off. "I do worry about him. And sometimes I want to take care of him. I know I can't fix everything but I care about him so much... Why is he always pushing me away? Why does he have to be such a _boy?_"

Tucker was about to respond when his call waiting started beeping in his ear. It was Danny. "Hang on a sec, Sam. I'm listening. I'll be right back." Tucker clicked over to the other line. "Hey."

"Hey, about that History assignment."

"Yeah?"

"Are we supposed to..." Danny cut himself off mid-sentence.

"Danny?"

"Oh my god..."

"Danny? Danny?" Tucker called into the phone. But it was useless. He was gone.

* * *

**Man, Danny and Sam both kind of have jerky moments in this chapter. But, hey, it happens. All people have jerky moments at one time or another and oddly they tend to have their worst with the people they care about most. **

**Despite the fantastic setting of Danny Phantom, I like to try and write people who behave as realistically as possible. As for the whole, "she's being such a girl" "he's being such a boy," those are probably the most rediculous and common complaints in the world. (Hey, I've made them too.) **

**For those that still have issues with our beloved cannon pair tearing into one another for seemingly no good reason- well, just trust me. It's all in the service of a bigger story.**


	6. Thursday and Friday

The small flat brush slid under the water pouring out of the tap. One tap on the edge of the sink and small errant drops were sent scattering. The wet brush swirled around the kohl, filling with black. One more small expert tap on the edge of the sink and the girl raised the brush to her eyes, painting dark lines beneath the lashes both on the top and the bottom.

If anyone knew how long it took Sam to put on her make up, she would have died of shame. She spent at least ten minutes on her face now, as her look had evolved to include black lines around the eyes and lips, light powder on her pale skin, and deep purple lipstick. She liked the feeling of it, though. The brushes gliding under her fingers and over her skin. It was like painting on a human canvas, drawing out an image of herself she'd designed on the white sheet of her ordinary face.

Finishing the last pass of a purple brush across her lips, Sam ran a tube of sparkling clear lip gloss on top of the color. She allowed herself a moment of vanity as she assessed herself in the mirror. She wasn't pretty she decided, but she felt attractive. Kind of sexy in a dark way. She was willing to bet when she saw Danny today...

Danny. She'd told Tucker not to worry about his disappearance last night. It was probably some ghost thing. It wasn't unusual, she'd said. He disappeared all the time. She was still worried, though, despite the fact that she was still upset at the way he'd treated her.

Grabbing her jacket and bag and screaming a goodbye to her parents, Sam dashed out into the fall morning. Her hands dug into her jacket pockets, pulling her jacket tightly around her while the wind whipped around her, baring hints of winter. Soon it would be too cold to walk to school and she'd have to start driving, something she liked to avoid whenever possible.

Her thoughts drifted away from cars and pollution and back to Danny. He had been acting strange lately and there was certainly something going on. At the same time that was no excuse to yell at her and lie to her like he had.

She thought back to the end of the summer while she walked. Things had seemed easier then.

He had come over, tapping at her window at 2 am. Of course she was awake, she always thought best late at night. She had been writing poetry, her room filled with candles.

Come in, she had said, and he'd come, floating through the wall.

Can I read it, he had asked, hovering just behind her, trying to see over her shoulder.

No way, she had said. It's not done, yet. It's crap right now.

He had laughed.

Do you want to look at the stars, he had asked her. They're beautiful tonight.

She had agreed, even though she pretended to aggravated at being interrupted. They blew out the candles and in the dark they flew through the roof up into the sky.

He had been right, the night was perfectly clear and the moon large and bright on the horizon.

Do you see that, he had said, pointing at a bright twinkling light with one hand, while the other one held her aloft. That's Venus.

She had grabbed him tightly as she gazed out and a sudden feeling of vertigo hadwashed over her. He wrapped his arms around her in response and then they were kissing. When the kiss finally broke she stared into his green eyes, brighter than the stars and planets.

I want there to be an us again, he had said.

Why, she had said. That would be, what? The third go around?

Maybe we've grown up now, he had said.

Maybe, she had replyed. And he kissed her again.

There, with the stars for a ceiling and his arms the only thing holding her in the sky, a thousand feeling had rushed through her and she had said yes, for the thousandth time yes. It was finally time for happy endings they had said. It was finally happily-ever-after.

Happily-ever-after my ass, thought Sam. Right now she wasn't sure if she wanted to whack him or save him, as frustration and fear washed over her.

Once at school,Sam avoided stopping by Danny's locker and went straight to her first period. She was in no mood to see him and hear the tales of last nights exploits.

Sam was somewhat relieved when lunch rolled around and she had to stay in the art room, struggling to finish her new project. She did the same at the end of school, glad she had a convenient excuse to be alone. Sam would call Danny tonight or talk to him tomorrow. She would explain that she hadn't avoided him, that she had been busy. They would apologize to each other and maybe she would find out what was going on.

* * *

Sam was glaring at her computer screen and the small book next to it when the phone rang. Was Dorian really responsible for his actions? Or was he capable of anything, now that he had the thing he wanted most forever, his youth? Damn paper was due tomorrow. 

The caller ID said it was Danny's home number.

"Heya," she said picking up the phone.

"Sam, this is Maddie."

"Oh, hi, Mrs. Fenton." Why was Mrs. Fenton calling her? Fear shot through Sam.

"Have you seen Danny today? He was gone this morning, he didn't go to school and he hasn't been home this evening."

"No, I haven't seen him." Sam regretted it as soon as she'd said it. She probably should have lied and covered for him somehow.

"Do you have any idea where he might be?"

"None. But don't worry Mrs. Fenton, I'm sure Danny's okay."

"He has been acting strange this past week. Do you know anything about that, Sam?" Crap. She'd noticed, too.

"Yeah. He's just tired and really stressed with school. That's about it."

"Okay."She didn't sound like she believed Sam. "Well, call me if you hear from him, okay?"

"I will. Promise."

"Thanks."

Sam hung up the phone immediately and called Tucker. "Have you heard from Danny?"

"Not a thing."

"Do you think it's just ghost hunting stuff?"

"I think so. But if he's not in school tomorrow, I say we try and find him. I told you how he got off the phone last night. It was really weird."

"Yeah." Sam thought for a moment. Nothing this week made any sense. She thought about the ghosts she'd seen in the past week, the stupid cat monsters and the little boy. She thought about Danny acting strangely. None of it added up to anything she could figure out.

"What if it's Vlad?" She asked, putting a voice to her worst fears.

"If it's Vlad we would have seen the dumb vulture things or something to do with Danny's mom."

"Eck."

"Yeah, you said it."

"I hope he's back tomorrow."

"Me, too."

* * *

The next morning had brought no word from Danny. There were no phone calls or visits to either Tucker or Sam. When they called his house his parents had worriedly said he hadn't shown up, yet. They were considering calling the police. 

Sam walked to school that morning, her head down and her brow knitted in thought. The wind was even worse than it had been the day before and it kept blowing leaves into her face and hair. She brushed them away with agitation. It was as if the whole world was trying to keep her from thinking.

Turning down a small empty street, in her usually round about way to school, Sam nearly fell over with surprise.

There was Danny, suddenly hovering front of her. He was obviously a ghost, softly glowing, bobbing slightly as he levitated, his white hair tossed about by the wind. His eyes however, were the strange red color she'd seen before, sharp and malevolent. His costume was gone too, replaced by black pants, a black shirt, black gloves, black boots, and a black coat that swirled around him with each new gust.

Sam stood still frozen in her spot, her body refusing to act on any command to speak or move. The ghost drifted towards her, wearing an enormous face splitting smile. The smile made her shiver in a way that had nothing to do with the cold. He stopped when his face was a few small inches away from hers, still smiling, those ruby eyes staring into hers. He raised a single eyebrow.

Then just as quickly as he had arrived he was gone, leaving only another gust of wind in his wake.

**

* * *

**

**Okay, fair warning, the next chapter may bump this up to an M rating. I'm going to try really hard to keep the rating down but I'm warning you guys just in case the rating jumps and this story disappears. **

**Five chapters in and I still haven't told you guys what's going on. Good one, Daphne. (Sorry, Asilla, I promise all will be revealed soon.)**

**Like it so far, hate it, completely apathetic? Let me know! I like writing things people will like and critiques help me do so.**

**Thank you for your lovely compliment, Shimegami-chan. And thank you, GhostBoy814, for being the fastest reviewer ever.**


	7. Night

**I decided not to change the rating on this chapter but I will supply a little warning. There is some creepiness and some nakedness. Nothing too explicit, however. Think of it as a T+ or something. If anyone feels the rating needs to be changed, please feel free to contact me.**

**-Daphne**

* * *

Sam sat cross-legged on her queen-sized bed, a large decaying volume open on her lap, several more scattered on the purple bedspread. Tucker sat on the other side of her room typing tiredly on her computer.

"What about this?" Sam yawned. "'Phasmacillicis: An extremely rare red gem, found only in central Europe. Activation of the stone's properties can compel a ghost to obey the owner of the gem without question.' That sounds like what Freakshow had."

"That's a possibility. But we haven't seen anything that looks like that since Freakshow's scepter was broken." Tucker did some quick typing. He scowled as he stared at the screen. "And according to this, that scepter was the only known artifact set with Phasmacillicis."

Sam buried her head in her hands letting her hair fall over her face. "What about man made devices? Is there anything man made that can control a ghost?"

Tucker sighed. "Sam, what if he's not being controlled? What if something snapped? What if being half ghost finally got the better of him?"

Sam's head popped up. "That wouldn't happen, Tucker." The girl growled, menacing. "You didn't see him this morning."

"Okay, okay." The boy slid his glasses off and rubbed his eyes. "But it is two in the morning and we haven't figured anything out." He polished the lenses on his glasses, set them back on his nose, and took in the girl hunched over and glaring at him. "And you look like hell."

"You don't exactly look like sunshine and flowers yourself but you don't hear me complaining."

"That's not what I meant." Tucker sighed. "We're exhausted and freaked out. We're not any good to anyone like this. We need to get some sleep."

Instead of answering Sam simply stared at the book in her lap.

Tucker got up and sat down next to her on the edge of the bed, pushing two large tomes out of the way before he did so. "We'll figure it out." The girl sniffed, her downward turned face hidden by hair. Anyone else would have started crying by now, thought Tucker, but not Sam. "He'll be okay, he's pretty strong." Sam sniffed again and the thick black hair bobbed up and down. "But we can't do anything if we're a mess, you know."

"You're right." The girl's voice came, the fight drained out of it.

"A'ight. I'll call you first thing tomorrow." Tucker grabbed his back pack from where he'd thrown it when they'd come in immediately after school.

"Okay. Do you think maybe we should try talking to Clockwork?"

Tucker shrugged. "I dunno. I don't really like the idea of going into the ghost zone without Danny but if we don't figure anything out, that might not be a bad idea."

"Cool." The girl yawned in spite of herself. "Well, sleep on it, I guess."

"Will do. Goodnight, Sam."

"'Night Tucker."

Left alone, Sam fell backwards on to her bed, the heavy book still in her lap. She shut her eyes, the bizarre events of the morning flooding back to her. She saw the strange smile on Danny's face and the way he look at her. It had been frightening, malevolent and possessive. And those red eyes. The image those luminescent crimson eyes had come back to her again and again. Those were not her Danny's eyes.

But they were Danny's and that's what bothered her the most. Despite the change in color, he was still there, the same boy was somehow behind that gaze.

Sam, sighed and rubbed her eyes. Pushing the book off her lap she got up and proceeded to clear the rest off her bed. Tucker was right. She needed sleep. She tore off her clothes and pulled on a t-shirt, not bothering to look for a real pair of pajamas. She was too tired.

Sam wandered into her bathroom and peered at herself in the mirror. She did look like hell. Her lipstick was worn off and the eyeliner had smeared leaving large black circles under her eyes. She washed the make-up off her face and stumbled to her bed falling in face first. She'd barely pulled up the covers before she fell asleep.

* * *

Sam woke up suddenly, snapped awake by the eerie feeling that someone else was in the room. She glanced around in the darkness, half convinced the sensation had come from a dream. But it wasn't a dream. She wasn't alone.

Her eyes focused on the figure floating at the end of her bed. Without the white gloves, boots, and belt he blended in more easily in the dark. He still radiated a soft, otherworldly glow, however, which was only partially obscured by all the black. His white hair fell softly around his face, framing the incandescent ruby eyes and the still boyish features. A smile gently played on his lips.

"Danny?" Sam choked, her voice hoarse with sleep.

"Who else?" His smile broadened. He crawled on to the bed, straddling the girl on all fours.

"Danny, you're scaring me." Sam found herself staring up at his face, unable to move.

"Do you like it?" He asked, taking her wrists in his gloved hands and slowly raising them above her head.

"What?"

Danny leaned in so closely that his cheek almost touched her's and whispered lightly in her ear. "I said, do you like it?"

Sam shivered and closed her eyes. She didn't want to think about what was happening. She felt a pair of cool lips softly press into hers.

"Danny, what are you doing?" she said quietly.

"I'm kissing my girlfriend. Aren't I allowed to do that?" He whispered back.

"You're not acting like yourself." She opened her eyes and searched the face above hers for any reaction. He frowned and rolled off of her, releasing her wrists.

"Maybe that's exactly what I'm doing." He pulled off his left glove and then his right, dropping them on the floor beside the bed. The ghost sat up and slid off the black coat, likewise letting it fall to the floor. Sam watched this in silence, not even having moved her arms from where he had placed them. Maybe I should run, she thought, but her body did nothing to act on it. Despite the strangeness of the situation, despite feeling afraid, she couldn't believe she was in any actual danger.

He leaned over slowly pulled the covers down to her thighs, making her shiver again, this time from the cold. He smiled at the sight of her in her underwear. "No pants. Wonderful."

He ran his left hand up her opposite leg, over her hip and up to her stomach.

"Why are you acting so strangely?" Sam breathed. "What do you want?"

"I want," he pushed up her shirt slightly and leaned over and kissed her stomach, "what I have." He pushed her shirt further up and kissed higher and Sam heard herself breath sharply in spite of herself. "And what I have, is you."

He continued to kiss his way up her stomach, pushing her shirt up to her neck revealing her breasts. Sam wanted to push him away, she _knew _she should push him away but it didn't help that this was the boy she had kissed a thousand time. Some part of her mind was not only deeply attracted to him, but attracted to the strangeness of the encounter. Through the fear and confusion in her mind she felt a wave of arousal, warm and sweet, as he gently kissed her naked right breast.

"This is definitely, still my favorite." He chuckled lightly.

"Still your favorite, what?"

"My favorite breast, of course."

"Oh."

He rolled over again, this time laying fully on top of her. She felt her legs spread to accommodate his form. He leaned into kiss her and she shut her eyes.

He kissed her deeply, fiercely, his mouth open as if to consume her. She kissed him the same way, wrapping one arm around his back, the other hand grasping the hair on the back of his head. She held him to her, afraid to open her eyes and see the boy on top of her. If she just held on tight enough, she thought, she would pull away and her same Danny would be back and she would be staring into his sweet, shy eyes.

The couple pulled their lips away from one another and she met his strange eyes, full of possessiveness and dominance. She felt tears slip from both her eyes and leave small wet trails on the edge of her face.

"Why are you crying? Please don't cry." The boy wiped the lines of salt water off her face and lay down next to her.

"I'm scared. I don't know what's happening to you." Sam spoke as much to the air as anything.

To her surprise, the ghost next to her sighed. "I suppose I need to explain it, don't I. If I want you."

Sam nodded.

The boy rolled on to his side, his head propped up on one hand, looking at her. A huge smile broke out across his face. "Everything got better."

"What do you mean everything got better." Sam sat up and pulled her shirt down to cover herself.

"I mean," he paused and bit his lip. "I don't know how to explain this, since you're not a ghost."

"Try. I'm here all night." She pulled her legs towards her and placed her head on her knees, looking at him.

"Well, the thing is, when you're a ghost things are so much quieter, so much simpler. There are fewer things crowding your head. So many things you think about when you're alive, just disappear."

Sam nodded. She didn't really understand but she wanted him to keep talking.

"But there are still a lot of things in your head. Too many things going on at once to really think well about any one thing." The smile returned to his face and Sam pulled her legs in closer to her body instinctively. "My new master, he takes them all away. He takes away all the other things so we can think about our one thing. The one thing that matters most."

He pulled away one of the hands holding her legs and kissed the palm.

"Am I your one thing?" She asked weakly. It wasn't really something she would have normally imagined but considering the way he was acting, it was her best guess.

"Of course." He sat up and took her face between her hands. "Don't worry, everything's going to be fine. In fact, things are going to start getting much better."

Sam felt herself starting to drift off, amazed that she could be sleeping in a moment like this. She felt herself being laid out on the bed, no longer having the power to do so herself. She fought to stay awake, but every time the boy touched her, she felt like she took another step closer to darkness.

The last thing she saw, before the darkness closed in, was that alien smile on the face she knew so well.

* * *

**Darn, I think I just creeped myself out.**


	8. Morning

It was morning. Sam could feel the sunlight streaming in from behind her eyelids. She groaned. Her body ached and half remembered dreams of flying skittered through her mind, fleeting yet still in real in the space between sleeping and waking. She pulled the thick blankets over her head and buried her face in her pillow, trying to lose herself again in darkness.

But it wasn't her pillow.

Sam sat bolt upright in bed, perfectly awake as bolts of shock raced through her body. She wasn't in her room. For that matter she wasn't in any room she'd ever seen. She turned her head slowly, taking it all in.

Gone were her thick red curtains, the purple carpet, the cast iron bed. The room she was in was light and airy, with hard wood walls and floors, light curtains, and patchwork quilts.

Holy _Better Homes and Gardens_, Sam thought. How did I fall asleep in gothland and wake up in _Little House on the Prairie?_

The whole night came flooding back to her. She remembered Danny coming into her room, with those strange eyes, saying those strange things. She gently ran her fingers over her lips. She remembered her kissing him intensely. The memory made her shiver.

Disturbed and disoriented as she was, however, Samantha Manson was never one to sit around when something was so obviously terribly wrong. Instead, she forced herself to confront her situation. And that meant getting out of bed. She flinched as her feet touched the icy cold wood floors. She ignored her discomfort, however, and continued across the room. The first order of business was to look out the window and see if she could get any bearings.

Unfortunately, peering outside neither assisted nor comforted her. She was on the second floor and had a good view but the view told her almost nothing. The landscape was almost completely bare, miles of small hills, covered in spiky yellow Prairie grass and sage stretching into the distance. On the horizon she could make out the blue shapes of mountains against the sky. So, she was in the West somewhere, she reasoned. The rustic decoration of her room seemed to support this assumption.

Sam's shivering distracted her from her thoughts. She was going to need something else to wear beyond the t-shirt in which she'd slept. She was glancing around the room looking for something to wear, when her eyes fell on a dark purple bedspread, neatly folded and placed on a wooden chair in the corner of the room.

Sam approached the blanket and lay a hand on the familiar fabric. She vaguely seemed to remember being wrapped up in her bedspread, just before she had dreamed of flying- which was apparently more than a dream.

A tall chest of drawers stood next to the chair. Sam pulled open the drawers, hoping whoever lived here had some pants she could borrow. The first two drawers were disappointingly empty but the third contained a few skirts, sweaters, and tights. Whoever had kidnaped her had obviously been thoughtful enough to bring some of her clothes. She wasn't sure it that was creepy or reassuring.

The question of, course, the girl mused while she pulled on a skirt, wasn't _who _had kidnaped her, that much was obvious. The questions were why had he done it, where had he brought her, and who was controlling him. Danny had said something about a master. What did he mean by that?

Fully clothed, Sam looked around for a brush. She found one sitting on a vanity across from the bed. After a few quick strokes, which amounted to her best attempt to control the thick black mane on her head, she assessed herself in the mirror.

She looked somewhat dour, dressed in black but without jewelry or even anything remotely interesting about the outfit. She looked more like a nun than a goth, she thought. She wore no make up, save the traces of yesterday's eyeliner and her hair refused to settle down into anything that looked like it might belong on a girl and not a circus cat. She stuck her tongue out at her image. Plain Jane, plain Jane, she teased herself. Look how ordinary and boring you look.

Sam shook her head and sighed. She wasn't really this vain, she was just avoiding doing what she needed to do, which was figure out what the hell was going on. That meant either exploring the house or waiting for someone to come get her and Sam wasn't very good at waiting.

She walked over to the door, taking a deep breathe and allowed herself just the barest moment of panic that would have descended on anyone else who had been kidnaped by a ghost and woken up in an alien location. Tightly closing her eyes, the girl muttered some colorful curse words at her current predicament and felt her body tense slightly from fear. Then she promptly forced herself to stop, assuring herself that in seventeen years she hadn't yet come across a scrape that couldn't be solved somehow.

Sam pressed an ear to the door, not wanting to blindly walk into something dangerous. Muffled through the thick wood she heard three voices. Two were definitely male, one young, one old, while the third belonged to a child. The voices were far off, however, so she opened the door, carefully peaking around the corner. She breathed a sigh of relief, finding the hallway empty. Walking as quietly as she could, she made her way towards the staircase to see if she could find the source of the conversation.

Peaking over the railing Sam could see down into the entry way of the house. Two ghosts were being addressed by an old man, who spoke animatedly, despite the fact that he was bent over a cane. Danny stood there, still dressed differently, still acting strangely. Next to him floated the boy from the fight at the Nasty Burger, his face buried in another comic book.

"And come back as soon as you get it, my boy. It will be unstable if left alone for too long," the man was saying.

"I understand completely," Danny replied.

"Do I have to go?" The boy complained looking up from his comic.

"Yes, you do," the old man scolded gently. "This is a big job and I don't want anything to happen to either of you. Understand?" The boy nodded. "Right then. I will see both of you this evening." He waved a hand dismissing them both and the pair flew up, disappearing through the ceiling.

Sam's heart beat quickly and heavily in her chest. At least now she knew who was controlling Danny and apparently comic book boy as well. But it only barely answered her questions and furthermore she had no idea what to do about it.

"I know you're up there," the old man's voice rang up the stairs.

Sam jumped at the sound of his voice. He knew she was here. Would he try to have her killed? Or worse?

"Would you like to come down? We can have some breakfast and I could explain some things to you."

The teenager slowly stood up and peered down at him. He looked harmless enough; an old wrinkled face, worn with sun, the texture of sandpaper, wisps of thin neatly cut hair adorning his head. He simply wore jeans and a western shirt, not exactly the costume for an archvillian, she thought, thinking of Plasmius in his cape and boots.

"Please," he said, "I think we should talk."

Sam thought for a moment. What were her other options? No good ideas springing to mind she agreed. "I think that's a good idea, " she snapped. "And I think you have a lot of explaining to do."

* * *

**I know this is kind of an incomplete chapter. I'll probably put up the next one very soon. The only reason I stopped here was in the interest of keeping up a somewhat uniform chapter length. Don't worry, to those of you who are confused, the next chapter actually has exposition!**

**- Daphne**


	9. Breakfast

Sam slowly followed the old man as he hobbled into the kitchen.

"You'll have to forgive me," he said politely "my hip went out a few years ago and I'm not very light on me feet any more."

"That's all right." Part of Sam had wanted to ask if he really thought she cared, but it was hard to be acidic towards someone who could easily be a grandfather.

"I suppose you're wondering why you're here."

"That's putting it mildly," Sam retorted.

"Sit down." He gestured towards a small kitchen table and she sat. "Coffee?" He held a pot aloft.

"That would be nice."

He poured her a large mug of thehot black liquid and set it down in front of her. Sam stared at the coffee for a moment without touching it.

"Is something the matter?"

"Um, do you have any milk and sugar?"

"Oh, of course!" The old man sounded as if he'd just had just had a murder mystery solved for him. Within moments a carton of milk and a large container plastic sugar container were set on the table along with a tea spoon. "Now, where do I begin? Where do I begin?" He muttered as heshuffled around the kitchen grabbing things for breakfast.

"Well, you could start with your name."

He placed a large loaf of bread and a knife on the table and stuck his hand out towards Sam. "My name is Quentin Heine. But most people just call me Heine."

Sam took the proffered rough hand and shook it. "Sam Manson."

Heinecontinued shufflingaroundfor a bit longer while hemumbled to himself incoherently. Sam wasn't sure if he was talking to her or not so she kept quiet and sipped her coffee watching him carefully. After returning with hard boiled eggs, jam, cheese, and plates, he finally creakingly settled into his own chair.

"So now that, we've gotten the names out of the way, what do I tell you first?" He gestured towards the food in front of him. "Help yourself! You must be starving after your flight last night!"

Sam eyed the loaf of bread in front of her. She was dying to know what this man had to say but she could feel her stomach rumbling. "Thank you," she said reaching forward to cut herself a piece of bread. "First of all why don't you tell me where I am?"

"Montana." The old man said helping himself to bread and eggs. He chewed for a moment and then turned his attention to his coffee.

Sam tried to be patient but it looked like he wasn't about to volunteer any more information. "Would you mind being more specific?"

"I'm sorry?"

"I mean, Montana's pretty big. Where in Montana am I?"

"Oh!" He cried again as if another great mystery had been solved. "You'll have to forgive me, I'm terrible with people. I'm much better with ghosts. You arein my home. On my ranch, fifty miles North of Hardin. It's not much of a ranch, though. I'm too old to manage cows or even take care of a couple of chickens." He seemed genuinely apologetic about this.

"And how did I magically appear here?"

"Well," Heine sighed focusing on the coffee cup cradled in his worn hands. "You have your boyfriend to thank for that. Or at least he was your boyfriend. He's dead now. But I suppose you know that. Tell me, how did it happen?" He looked at Sam curiously.

"Accident in his parents' lab." Sam replied.

"Ahh. Tragic, I'm sure. Well, as you know- or perhaps you don't, in which case I suppose this whole incident is much more of a shock to you- after he died, he became a ghost and an extremely powerful one at that. I discovered him a few months ago when a couple of my pets, a pair of mountain lion ghosts, ran into him while running errand for me. I became very curious about him and when I had to let one of my ghosts go I decidedI shouldseek him out. I sent my lions back to find him, just so I could see what he could do, and honestly I wasn't in the least disappointed."

"What do you mean, 'your ghosts?'" Sam interjected.

"I'm an aamil." The man shrugged as if he had just said, 'I'm a plumber.' "I collect spectral artifacts and manipulate ghosts. It's really nothing remarkable, mostly a matter of practice. All you needare the right tools and the right know-how. Most ghosts are very weak-minded. I bring them into my power and then keep them there by offering the thing they are most fixated on. They get what they want and I get what I want. After a few years when their obsession has spent itself I let them go and they usually pass on. In fact it's probably best that they meet me. Being in my service tends to speed things up, I suppose." He started chuckling and Sam looked at him curiously. "But your boy, your boy, oh! I asked him what he wanted, what he thought about most and he wouldn't tell me." Heine shook his head. "It took me days to get him under my control. Do you realize that? Days! He's very strong, that one. Every time I thought I had him, he'd snap back." The old man got up and walked over to the coffee pot. "More coffee?"

Sam shook her head. "No, thank you."

Heine poured himself another cup of coffee and sipped contemplatively. Finally he sat back down. "What was I saying?

"You were telling me about asking Danny what he wanted."

"Oh yes, that." Heine sipped at his coffee for another moment. "He wouldn't tell me. It was as simple as that. Finally, I asked him if he could find it and bring it back. That seemed to set a spark in him, so I told him to do just that. He left yesterday and now," he gestured at Sam, "here you are."

"What are you going to do with me?"

"I'm not sure."

"Well," Sam was suddenly hopeful. Heine seemed odd but there was the possibility that he wasn't malicious, slim though it may have been. "Why don't you drive me to the nearest town? I can contact my parents and get home from there."

To her surprise, Heine laughed. He laughed loudly and violently, grabbing the edge of the table for support.

"I'm sorry, darling. I can't do that," he said finally calming down. "If I let you go we'll have a very angry and very powerful phantasm on our hands and that is something neither of us wants to deal with. No, you'll stay here."

Sam looked out the window, wondering if she could walk the fifty miles to the nearest town.

"And don't think of running away, either," he said, practiacally reading her mind. First of all its fifty miles to town and almost none of it is on the highway. Chances are you would have to walk the entire distance, since most of it is dirt road and a good chunk of it on my property. You won't be hitching a ride out here. Secondly, it would most likely seriously upset your friend and neither of us wants there." Heine grinned and Sam couldn't tell if it was because he amused or pleased with the situation.

"So what am I supposed to do?"

"You'll stay here, until we figure something out. You can have the run of the place, my house will be open to you. You'll make your boy happy because you don't want him upset and I don't want to lose my _wunderkind_. If we can get him to fixate on something else, then you can go. Until then, you will be a good girl, do you understand?" He leaned across the table, his eyes boring into Sam's.

"Because you do not want to rile me up."

* * *

Sam walked along the dirt road away from the house, a borrowed jacket pulled tightly around her. She was afraid to take off in any other direction, in case she lost sight of the house and got lost in the endless, unchanging plains landscape. Heine had suggested following a line of fence but she stuck by the road, anyway. The landmark made her feel more secure and she also wanted to see if the crazy old man had been telling the truth about the distance to town and paved roads.

The wind whipped around her hair and she kept her head down to keep the dust of the road from blowing into her eyes and mouth. As she walked she took stock of what she had learned. Heine could control ghosts but it seemed he couldn't do it with the same absolute power that Freakshow had been able to do. He was also mad as a hatter and even though he seemed nice, she was afraid he could be dangerous. And he didn't seem to be aware that Danny was only half ghost or that Sam was no stranger to ghosts herself. There were definitely cards she could play against him, should the time come.

One of the first things Sam had to do, she decided, was talk to Danny. She was supposed to "keep him happy" so she imagined she'd be left alone with him. If he wasn't buried too far in there, then maybe she'd be able to get through to him. In that case, staying was also in her favor.

Sam heard a screeching noise and looked at the sky trying to find its source. A pair of hawks were circling each other in the sky. The girl stood by the road, watching the large birds, marveling at how graceful and menacing they could be in the same moment. Then above the hawks she saw a pair of shapes streaking through the sky in the direction of the ranch house. It appeared that Danny had returned early.


	10. A Mission

There was no answer on Sam's cell phone. She must still be asleep, Tucker thought. It was nine in the morning. He felt guilty for needing to wake her up but there were more important things at the moment than sleep.

He called her house phone. A female voice answered.

"Manson residence, good morning."

"Good morning, Mrs. Manson." Tucker spoke trying to be as polite as humanly possible. "This is Tucker. May I speak to Sam, please?"

"Samantha isn't up, yet."

"Well, um. Would you mind waking her up? See, it's kind of important."

"Did you two have plans today?"

"Er, yes!" Tucker's mind raced trying to think of a convenient lie. "We were supposed to go to a college fair this morning. I'd like to get there before it gets crowded so we can get out of there as soon as possible."

"Oh! Well, it's about time she got up, anyway. I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you, Mrs. Manson." Tucker heard her set the phone down and walk away. He waited, amusing himself by whistling into the mouthpiece. Mrs. Manson took even longer getting back to the phone than anticipated- and Tucker knew how long it took Sam to get out of bed.

"Samantha isn't here." She sounded upset and a little agitated. "Does this have anything to do with that Fenton boy?"

"Danny? No!" Tucker denied it before what she had said fully sank it. "Wait, you mean Sam's not there?"

"That's what I said! I looked all over the house. She's nowhere. I am going to give those Fentons a piece of my mind..."

A chill ran down Tucker's spine. Danny disappeared two days ago, well sort of, and now Sam is gone, Tucker thought. This is bad news.

* * *

The decision to look for Clockwork wasn't one that came to Tucker lightly. He hated the Ghost Zone, he hated the idea of going there alone, and Clockwork wasn't exactly one of his best friends. Their first introduction, which had sent Tucker ten years into a dystopian future and involved the abuse of his best friend, wasn't exactly a good first impression of the ghost. Tucker did know, however, that Danny trusted Clockwork and turned to him for advice or help. If Danny could put his faith in Clockwork, then Tucker could put his faith in Clockwork for Danny's sake. And Sam's. 

At least he hoped.

Tucker also wasn't sure what other options he had. The Boooomerang had been gone for years and another poorly named tracking device that might have led to Danny had never appeared. The research he and Sam had done had proved fruitless and there were hardly any clues in Danny and Sam's disappearances that might point him in the right direction, or any sort of direction for that matter.

Sam's bedspread was missing along with some of her clothes. This made her parents assume that she had run off somewhere (despite the fact that she hadn't take her wallet or her cell phone) and they were actively blaming this on the Fentons. The Fentons, meanwhile, were increasingly upset and distraught at their missing son. The police had been notified the day before but had turned up nothing in their investigation. Jack and Maddie were currently spending every moment either fending off the wrath of the Mansons or running through every ghost based explanation that might explain why their son had vanished.

The map of the Ghost Zone that they had begun years ago had been fleshed out, detailed and repeatedly corrected. Tucker had uploaded the information into his PDA and combined it with a sort of GPS of his own invention (the GZPS as he called it). It seemed to work most of the time. In the fluctuating world of the Ghost Zone, however, things were always never quite where you expected them to be and none of the teenagers involved in making the map could exactly be said to have degrees in cartography. This meant there was still a certain amount of guess work, unless of course, Tucker thought bitterly, you happened to be Danny. The teenage ghost always seemed to have a better idea of where things were than either he or Sam did. Whether this was a result of him being a ghost inside the Ghost Zone or if it was simply because he had spent more time there, Tucker couldn't guess. Either way, Tucker didn't like the idea of going there without him.

Which was exactly what Tucker was about to do.

To do so, of course, Tucker would need the Specter Speeder. Stealing the Speeder was another thing Tucker didn't exactly relish. If he got caught, or as soon as they realized that it and he were gone, there would be more questions, more worries and things would get much worse.

Tucker went over to the Fentons' late that morning, the latest edition of the Ghost Zone map downloaded into his PDA. He gave the pretense of being worried about Danny and just wanting to be there for the Fentons, which was so close to the truth, it wasn't hard to fake. It wasn't until early afternoon and living through what Tucker felt were a few of the longest hours of his life, that Tucker finally got his chance.

They were sitting the living room, rehashing the same ideas for the hundredth time when the phone rang.

"Jack it's the police."

"Did they find anything? Do they know where Danny is? Is he okay?" Jack Fenton responded, his usually exuberance channeled into tension and hope. Maddie shook her head.

"No, they want to ask us some more questions. Things they think it would help them to know."

"All right then."

"Tucker?" Maddie looked at him sweetly.

"Yes, Mrs. Fenton?"

"Would you mind staying here? Just in case Danny or Sam or anyone else tries to call?"

This was just too easy.

"Of course. You guys take your time. I'll have everything under control here."

"Thanks, Tuck." Jack smiled at him warmly and a wave of guilt when through Tucker. He managed to smile back weakly.

"I'll have my cell phone, so call me if you hear anything." Maddie said, hastily grabbing her purse and her keys. Tucker got the feeling she liked having something to do, even if it was just go answer questions. Sitting around in an emergency was something she didn't do well.

"Absolutely."

"All right, Jack. Let's go."

"I'm right behind you!"

And with that they were off in the Fenton RV and Tucker was down in the lab.

Driving the Specter Speeder wasn't an issue for Tucker. He'd been doing that since he was fourteen; he'd known how to drive the machine before he'd known how to drive a car. Opening the Ghost Portal wasn't a problem either, despite the fact that it was keyed to only open to members of the Fenton family. A quick hack into the security system fixed that.

The rockets flared as the engine roared to life and the heavy door in front of him parted to reveal a sea of shifting green light, dancing and pulsing before his eyes. Tucker gulped and adjusted his glasses. He was Tucker Foley, he told himself. He could do this. Tucker Foley could do anything he put his mind to.

Tucker linked the Speeder's on board computer with his PDA, programing a route which he hoped would take him to Clockwork's tower. And with a press of a button the boy blasted into the phantasmic sea before him and was gone.

* * *

**Bravo and cookies forDragon Queen Dreamer for getting Tuck's joke in chapter 5! In binary notation, which only uses 1s and 0s(also known as base 2) 2 is written 10. So there are 10 types of people in the world- those who understand binary notation and those who don't.**

**That just strikes me as a very Tucker joke.**

**-Daphne**


	11. Afternoon

She rushed back to the house, her hair blowing wildly behind her as her boots pounded the dirt and shale, sending up small clouds of dust as they hit. Sam felt desperate to see Danny. Fear and need had begun battling inside of her as soon as he had appeared in the sky. Need had won. The compulsion to see that he was in one piece, the desire to be comforted by him, and the hope that even in his desperate state he could protect her and save himself, all drove her to him. Danny had become a need, as real as and more powerful than any other that inhabited her body.

The ghosts arrived at the house before she did and Sam saw them disappear into the roof from a distance. She wished briefly that she could fly, craving the speed and smoothness of travel it offered. The knowledge of the house they had entered and who lay inside, quickly tempered that desire, however. If being human and keeping her feet on the ground was the price she had to pay for keeping control of her own brain, it seemed worth it to Sam, although the thought forced a fresh wave of anxiety for Danny through her body like sea sickness.

By the time Sam reached the front door Danny was floating in the living room, talking to Heine, the child ghost beside him.

"It was really nothing," Danny was saying. "This one was able to create a pretty big distraction," Danny ruffled the child's hair, "I was able to slip in and out so quickly, it was like I wasn't even there."

The child pushed his hand aside and flashed him an annoyed look. "Can I go now?" He addressed the old man.

"Yes, yes." He distractedly waved a calloused hand, dismissing him, "go on." With that the child disappeared into the upper part of the house.

Heine was currently fascinated by the object in his other hand, a large irregularly cut orange gem, examining it with intense pleasure and fascination.

Sam stood just outside the doorway trying to decide what to do. The most logical thing to do was probably to hide and try and hope that they would say something that would be useful to her. After half walking, half running towards him for ten minutes, however, it took everything she had not to run to Danny and throw her arms around him. In the end, she executed a compromise between the two actions and carefully walked through the front door and into the living room.

"Um, hello," Sam coughed.

Danny turned to look at her, his eyes lighting up, and a large smile, similar to the one he'd worn the previous evening, spreading across his face.

"Hello, Sam." It was Heine who spoke, although he barely glanced in her direction, still absorbed in the gem.

"Danny?" Sam's voice wavered a little. She wasn't sure what would happen now and it made her more than a little nervous.

"Master, may I?"

Sam felt her stomach turn in revulsion. Hearing Danny, who never called an adult so much as _sir_, had called this unsettling mockery of a cowboy "master." It made her furious and nauseous at the same time.

The old man nodded, giving Danny a wave similar to the one he'd given the child earlier. Danny grinned even wider and rushed over to Sam. The girl barely had time to squeak in surprise before his arms were around her and they were flying through the ceiling to the second floor.

Sam found herself standing the room she had woken up in, staring into Danny's eyes. In those strange discolored eyes, she could see the same intense need she had felt when she'd run to the house melded with an extraordinary, consuming desire as he gazed at her.

The frightening thought crossed her mind as she remembered rare moments of total selfishness, when she'd dreamed about a Danny would needed, saw, and wanted only her. Faced with such a look in reality, however, she cringed.

He leaned forward to meet her, pulling her even closer. To her surprise her mouth responded in the same way it had the night before, desperately, eagerly kissing him back. It was several moments before she regained her senses and pulled violently away from him.

"Danny, no."

"What?" A look of confusion ran over the ghost's face.

"This isn't right. You're not right. This isn't you!"

Danny chuckled softly. "Who else would I be?" he said, gently stroking her hair.

"Danny," Sam pleaded. "What has he made you do? What have you done for that man?"

He frowned slightly. "Stolen mostly. Ran errands. I hurt someone but not badly," he said flippantly.

Sam pushed his arms away, repulsed both by his candor and what it was he' actually said. "Danny, that's not you! You're the good guy, you're a hero. You don't hurt people, you save them!" She fixed her eyes on his and grabbed his hand, silently calling him to break the spell. "Please, I know you're in there somewhere. I know you're not some toady. You're a savior, a champion."

"Maybe," his face was impassive and he spoke slowly, "I'm not a hero anymore. Maybe I don't want to be a champion. I'm a ghost. That's not what a ghost is."

Sam gritted her teeth and dropped his hand, clenching her fists. She would not yell or scream or cry in front of her boyfriend-cum-kidnapper no matter how badly she wanted to.

The teenaged ghost looked sideways, as if something had caught his attention. "I have to go." He said simply.

He grabbed Sam and kissed her roughly. A sound rose up in her throat, as she realized yet again how strong he was in his ghost form. Weakly she opened her mouth, as if her body had no choice but to respond automatically.

And then he was gone. As quickly and simply as that, he wasn't there anymore.

Sam collected herself and forced her thoughts into order. Talking to him didn't seem to work, so she would need to try a new tactic. She pushed down a moment of panic and forced herself to think analytically. First and foremost, she needed information.

Wandering downstairs she found the old man was gone, so badgering or coercing him was out of the question. The next best thing, Sam decided was to snoop around the house.

The first floor proved to be exceedingly uninteresting; just the kitchen they'd eaten breakfast in, and the ratty living room complete with a dusty black and white TV and several aging back issues of National Geographic. At least, Sam noted, she'd discovered a new form of depressing- even if it was diametrically opposed to the esthetic gloom she liked to impose on her own life.

Not finding evidence of a basement, she decided to explore the second floor. The first door was closed and after knocking she opened it very slowly, half expecting something to pop out at her.

What she saw instead was a room void of any other furniture or decoration, itsonly contents, endless stacks of comic booksthat rose in piles almost up to the ceiling. Glancing around she could see hundreds, maybe thousands of the slim superhero comics that so many young boys read. But those were only the beginning of the collection. There were also stacks of Japanese manga, books of absurd French comics, and thick collections of newspaper serials, filling every corner with no discernable method of ordering them.

More amazing than the extensive graphic clutter, however, was the child-ghost who sat in the middle of the room. He was reading another superhero comic. Actually, he wasn't reading so much as he was watching the characters move about in three dimensional form, acting out their parts as the pages slowly flipped.

Sam remembered what he'd said to Danny at the Nasty Burger, "I like seeing them alive." Right now, he looked absolutely peaceful, and his power seemed like less of a threat than an extraordinary amusement for a child.

"Hey," Sam said as a way of greeting. "I was wondering if I could talk to you for a second."

The child's body stayed where it was facing the opposite wall while his head turned to look behind him, mimicking a scene from the exorcist. His round face contained the same perturbed look it seemed to wear most of the time.

"Get out of my room!" His child's voice screamed and all the force of the supernatural came with it. Sam felt herself fly violently out of the room and land forcefully against the hall wall, the door slamming behind her.

Sam sat on the floor for a moment aching from her violent expulsion and slightly shaken by the encounter.

"Geez, you could have just said no." Sam muttered before getting up and brushing herself off. She sighed. "Well then, let's see what's behind door number two."

The next door down the hallway revealed a library, the discovery of which coaxed a small smile from Sam. Book collections not only gave you a wealth of information but they also told you quite a bit about the person to whom they belonged.

Sam might have expected to find a collection of readers digest novels sitting dustily on the shelves to match the aura of the room down stairs but she was pleasantly surprised to find a room filled with interesting looking books ranging from paperbacks to grand leather bound volumes. The room was rounded off by a large, worn, comfortable chair and an equally worn desk tucked away in one corner.

Sam let her fingers dance over the spines of the books as she slowly made her way down one of the shelves, her eyes grazing over the titles. It was as if she had wandered into a very small version of one of her favorite book stores and the feeling comforted her

Her hands stopped on a title and she froze in her revelry. It was a slim volume, one that she'd been reading with Danny in what felt like another lifetime, even though it had been just days before. In a fit of romantic indulgence she pulled the book off of the shelf and opened it to a random page.

_"'I know what pleasure is,' cried Dorian Grey. 'It is to adore some one.'_

_"'That is certainly better than being adored,' he answered...'"_

Sam snorted as she shut the book. That was certainly seemed true.

A day ago she might not have thought so. A day ago she might have been upset when Danny's attentions turned elsewhere, when he became frustrated with her, when he hid his thoughts. She thought about the way he looked now when he looked at her, his eyes hungering for her, seeing only her. It frightened her and hurt her to see him look at her like that and she hated it.

With a sigh, Sam slumped back into the chair in the corner of the room and let her thoughts wander. It wasn't as if there wasn't an attraction to this bizarre behavior. She remembered the way he touched her the night and she shivered as the ghosts of his caress crawled over her skin once more.

But it hadn't been right.

Her mind traveled back a few weeks earlier to a moment that was supposed to be wonderful and exquisite, perfect in her memory.

They had decided to be each other's first. She'd been giddy and nervous but determined it would be extraordinary. Her parents and grandmother had gone out for the eveningleaving her alone. Danny had come over. She'd made them a simple dinner, just spaghetti and salad.

How is this supposed to work, if I don't have a meatball to push at you with my nose? He'd asked.

She'd laughed but secretly she'd felt a little hurt that he would break the mood with a joke like that.

After diner they'd gone to her room.

There were candles and flowers. She had fresh sheets on her bed.

And it was ackward. And it was painful. It was over in a moment and they both lay on the bed embarrassed and unsure what to do next.

Then Danny had laughed. He had laughed a genuine laugh at all of it. He had pushed her hair off of her face and kissed her softly. Looking into his sparkling eyes she had felt herself relax. Suddenly the absurdity of the whole evening and their expectations had reached her and she'd giggled in spite of herself.

And they had lay there, in what should have been the most romantic moment of their young lives, but clearly wasn't, and laughed and held each other and laughed some more.

Sam felt a sharp pain somewhere between her chest and her throat. That was the young man she adored. And because she adored him, she had to save him- somehow.

She paced over to the most threatening looking leather bound volumes, noting with an twinge of unpleasant recognition that a pair of them had been written by Frederich Isak Showenhower. She pawed through several of the books, finding everything from myths to detailed descriptions of disturbing spectral devices, she only hoped Heine had nowhere in his control.

Three quarters of an hour and a pair of tired eyes later, Sam still hadn't found anything useful. She was barely paying attention when she opened a book entitled _Transformative Phantasmic Vita_.

The sound of a girl gasping and a book hitting the floor could be heard all the way downstairs.

* * *

**Sorry, this is so long in coming. Life has been a bit hectic these past couple of weeks. At least it's long, I guess.**

**And remember, reviews make the writer feel soft and fuzzy inside! And critiques make me a better writer, which gives you better stuff to read! (Hint, hint.)**

**Thank you to those who are reading, whether you review or not. (I can see the hits. I know you're out there.)**

**-Daphne**


	12. Journey

Tucker sang along softly with the music floating out of the craft's speakers, while his fingers drummed loudly on the dashboard. Normally, Tucker loved being able to belt his lungs out, especially alone in a car, away from criticism and the withering looks of his friends. No joy and very little volume were evident as he sang, however. The soft singing he was doing now was a distraction, a way of keeping himself occupied and away from panic.

He'd been traveling in the Ghost Zone for well over an hour and there was still no sign of his destination. His eyes darted back and forth almost constantly, nervously surveying the swirling greenish void around him and checking every island, doorway, or anything else that might be called a landmark. He was well past anything he easily recognized now, which only made him more anxious. Yet the GZPS on his PDA said he was still on course and the Speeder continued to fly ahead, so he refused to believe he was lost. Instead he sang, he drummed, he watched.

Danny had become so adept at finding his way around the Ghost Zone, it seemed to Tucker that it was his second home; an unwelcoming, violent, purgatory of a home, but an exceedingly familiar place, nonetheless. Having his friend with him in this place, had given him more of a sense of security than he'd ever realized. Now that he was forced to navigate the limbo without him, Tucker was well aware how much he depended on him and how keenly he missed his presence.

Tucker had once asked Danny how he always seemed to find his way from one place to another in the shifting landscape.

I just concentrate on where I'm going, and I get there, Danny had answered.

He hadn't been able to give a better answer than that and didn't seem to understand why Tucker pressed him to be more specific. That was simply it. Concentrate and arrive.

So, half lost and alone, Tucker concentrated. He called to mind the image of Clockwork's tower, hazy in his memory. Please, he thought, please let me get there.

There was a sound in the distance now and Tucker turned off the music. He could hear the sounds of gears turning and ticking at different speeds, all distant and distorted, but real. He jumped as his PDA rang, indicating that he was close to his destination. The ship turned sharply to the right (leaving his stomach slightly on the left) and Clockwork's tower suddenly loomed amid the ghastly green mists of the Zone, the cogs that preceded it clearly in view, spinning in the nothing, with no source of power that Tucker could detect.

The tower itself looked like a giant grandfather clock, built several stories high, with spires and turrets, and a pendulum that could be seen leisurely swinging back and forth inside its middle, the ball of which was easily several times the size of the Speeder.

As Tucker got closer the sounds of shifting gears, ticking, and spinning cogs grew louder and louder in a symphony of noise that might have been unbearable save that it was somehow asynchronous and harmonic all at once.

Tucker turned off the autopilot on the Speeder and gently guided it on to the small rocky surface on which the tower was perched. He turned the Speeder off. He unplugged his PDA and placed it in his pocket, patting it as if it were some sort of good luck charm. He realized his palms were sweating, took a deep breath, wiped them on his pants and then got out of the vehicle, shivering slightly at the chill of Ghost Zone.

There was a large door at the base of the tower and Tucker stood for a moment briefly debating, whether to take advantage of being in the Ghost Zone and walk straight through it and inside. He decided to err on the side of politeness when coming to ask for a favor.

Raising a fist he knocked loudly and deliberately against what felt like heavy wood and iron, like one might find one the door of a cathedral. The door swung open before he could get in a third knock and startled Tucker as there was clearly no one on the other side.

Carefully, Tucker stepped into the tower, his tennis shoes making a muffled echoing noise on the floor, which could be heard despite the gears and clocks.

"Hello?" He called out. No answer. "Hello?" Still, no answer. "Um, it's Tucker, Danny's friend." Silence. "Clockwork?"

Looking around, Tucker could see a set of stairs winding its way up to the top, hugging the insideof the tower and circling around the pendulum. He must be upstairs, Tucker thought with a sigh, as he started towards the stairs.

Climbing the slim staircase was disorienting and nerve-wracking. There was no bannister or wall to protect him from falling and the higher Tucker climbed the more frightening it was to look over the edge. Adding to theterror of theclimb, was the pendulum, the ball of which flew only inches away from the edge of the stairs. Tucker gasped despite of himself as he made his way past the enormous, flat, brassish sphere, and pressed himself against the wall more than once, unable to fight down the feeling that he would be crushed.

Past this obstacle, however, there was nothing left to do but climb. Exactly, how many floors it would have translated to, Tucker couldn't say but he knew it was quite a few. He was hardly a quarter of the way up when he had to sit down, his legs aching and his breast pounding.

Mentally, he gave himself a sharp talking to. Come on, Foley, he told himself. You've done a lot worse than a couple of stairs. Let's not forget who you hang out with all the weird things you've gotten through. You can do this. Besides you have to do this. So you will.

"You could have just been a little more patient, you know." A voice broke Tucker out of his personal pep talk. Looking up he was face to face with a ghost floating next the stairs. He wore the face of an old man, with a long mottled beard. He was hunched underneath a long robe, his thin body adorned with watches and time pieces. Tucker only had to glace at him for a moment to realize he was aging backwards, slowly losing the wrinkles that covered his face and regaining the vitality of youth.

"Clockwork?"

"Who else," he responded cooly. "Now were you planning to walk the rest of the way or shall I help you up?"

"I think I'd take a lift, thanks." Tucker said getting to his feet.

"Very well then." And the ghost's hands, now the hands of a strong middle aged man, were grabbing his shoulders and pulling him upwards at astartling speed.

Clockwork set him down once they reached the top floor. The enormous room was filled with a dizzying assortment of cogs and wheels and time pieces of all sorts, new, old, and yet to come. Tucker glanced around taking it all in. He felt a slight twinge when he saw devices he didn't understand, a sort of jealousy rising up in him as he looked at artifacts whose technological basis he had never seen and many he quite possibly never would.

"You are easily distracted aren't you." The young looking ghost fingered his staff and gave Tucker an indecipherable but vaguely amused look.

"No, I'm not." Tucker shot back, annoyance overcoming awe and apprehension. "I'm here for Danny. He needs help."

"And you think I will help you?" Clockwork quirked an eyebrow.

"I think you'll help Danny. You watch out for him, don't you?"

The caped ghost floated near to the boy, his teenage face near to Tucker's own.

"Is that what you think?" A smile twitched on his face.

"Don't you?" Tucker felt worry and fear regain their hold on his brain.

"It's true," Clockwork responded. "I could be called his friend." He floated away from Tucker becoming more of a child with every second.

"Do you have any idea what's going on? Danny disappeared. And so did Sam. And Sam told me this terrible story about him just showing up..."

"Of course, I know what's going on." The infant ghost smiled. "The question is, do you?"

Tucker shook his head. "No. That's why I'm here."

"Well then, suffice it to say, I have a much better handle on things than you do." The babe who was once again a toddler, gestured towards the teenager. "Why don't you come here."

Tucker followed Clockwork to what appeared to be a large round mirror, suspended in air. He waved a hand and the image of Danny and Sam standing in a strange room flickered into existence.

"For now," he said, "we will watch." A chair seemed to appear from nowhere and the child who was growing older every second gestured for Tucker to sit down. Tucker did so automatically, for once in his life at a loss for something to say.

"Would you like some tea, while we wait?" asked the ghost.

* * *

**Okay, I changed some things with Clockwork. Actually, I changed one thing. I decided to make his aging and de-aging a smooth rather than a jumpy process. This is mostly just because I think it makes better text and the image sort of makes me jump a bit.**

**Other than that, his tower is as close of a description as I could manage from the show. Also, I have to say, I love Clockwork. He's pretty much _deus ex machina _with an odd sense of humor.**

**As always, thanks to my readers. And remember reviews provide a soft atomic glow in my heart and critiques supply you with better reading material.**

**- Daphne**


	13. Evening

Sam sat straight up, shocked awake by a terrible noise, somewhere between a scream and a growl, echoing in her ears. The noise burst through the walls of the house, shattering its way through her dreams and then it was gone as if suddenly muted.

Sam's heart pounded in her chest. She was on the bed she'd woken up in that morning, having fallen asleep late in the afternoon, exhausted from anxiety and her own thoughts, as her mind had choked on information. She lay there for a moment, letting her heart slow back to normal, sorting through dreams and reality. Images of comic book villains, endless yellow plains, and for some reason her grandmother dressed as a pitcher for the Red Sox, melted away from her memory filled with meanings that were just beyond her finger-tips.

Reluctantly, Sam let the warm safety of dreams slide away and made her way to the window to see if she could see anything in the dying evening light.

One of the big cat ghosts was pacing mechanically in front of the porch, its tail whipping about furiously. The ever-present other half of the pair, however, was nowhere to be seen.

Sam stared out the window, watching the mountain lion and the colors on the horizon: fading oranges melting into purples pushing against the ashy hills, where distance won and eyes could simply see no further.

A black gloved hand slowly slid around her waist and pulled her backwards. The girl's entire body jumped and became stock still, as a sharp intake of breath made its way through her lips. She stood wordlessly, continuing to stare out the window. Hair brushed against her cheek and breathless voice whispered in her ear.

"Did you miss me?"

She shivered but did not move.

The arm around her waist turned her around and pulled her toward him. His other hand rose up to stroke her cheek and those same breathless lips leaned in to kiss her. Sam thought she might be frozen forever, her entire body permanently in a state of mutiny against her mind. Yet at the last moment, as his lips grazed hers, an order was obeyed and her face turned sharply away from him.

He drew back still holding on to her. She felt his grip tighten as he pushed away and she knew he was displeased.

"What is it?" The boy said in a soft, almost mocking, voice. "I'm here, everything I have wants you. What else can you ask from me?" He cocked his head and the fire in his eyes flashed dangerously.

"A lot." Sam tried to push him away but his much stronger arms didn't move.

"What?"

"I said," she turned toward him, anger rising in her voice. "A lot. I don't want you crazily obsessed over me and I don't want to be that way about you."

The ghost simply stared at her, his eyes narrowing malevolently. Sam gave him a push, catching him off guard and disentangling herself from his arms.

"I want Danny back!" She yelled.

"I'm right here," he said, a cold growl growing in his voice.

"No!" She spat back, too tired to be afraid. "You're not! I want the Danny that screws things up, that doesn't notice when I need him to pay attention to me, that fights with me, that tells crappy jokes and ruins almost every romantic situation. I want Danny! My imperfect, wonderful, messed up Danny."

Her outburst was short but she was exhausted and what little strength she had seeped out of her body as she collasped onto the edge of the bed. She struggled to keep the tears out of her eyes, refusing to look up as she sat there, in case the sight of those damned red eyes pushed her over the edge. He will not see me cry, he will not see me cry, she repeated over and over again in her head like a mantra.

"I only desire you." The ghost's voice came out flat and without emotion. He reached out a hand toward her but she swatted it away without even looking.

"No. I want Danny. _My_ Danny." Sam pulled a pillow onto her lap, hugging it against her. "I want my Danny who loves to fly. Who lets other people clean up his messes. Who likes chocolate pudding and computer games. Who apologizes too much and can't ever say the word "cardamom" or act normal in front of my parents. Who cares about people and tries to save them, even when they hate him for it. Who is just as stubborn as I am and argues with me over everything." She lay down gracelessly on the bed and pulled the pillow over her head. "I just want all of him. Every stupid and annoying human detail."

"You want," the specter spoke slowly and his voice was muffled by layers of cotton, "me to be human?"

Sam nodded underneath the pillow, numb and tired.

"With all the idiotic things that go with it?"

Sam nodded again. "I like the idiotic things," she said, realizing she meant it as she said it. She clenched her eyes shut for a moment, hoping against hope that in a moment them things would be different, that maybe she would wake up from a dream and this would all be as real as her grandmother playing baseball.

Sam opened her eyes as a hand slowly pulled the pillow away from her face.

"Sam?"

The girl looked up and saw the incredibly blue, incredibly human eyes of her boyfriend staring worriedly back at her.

"Danny?"

"Sam, are you okay?"

"Danny!" She threw her arms around his neck burying her face in the soft skin there,relishing the heat from his body.

"Oh God," he said, his breath cut off, as she squeezed him. "I'll take that as a yes." He felt a slight wetness on his neck and embraced her just as tightly kissing the top of her head. "Are you crying?"

The girl pulled away, rapidly wiping at her face.

"No."

Danny didn't respond. He simply stood there looking at her. The way he gazed at her suddenly made Sam feel shy and uncomfortable. She was acutely aware of being seen, not simply desired. A hand flew to her wild hair, pushing it down and she frowned as remembered that she wasn't wearing any make up.

"I look like a mess," she said laughing uneasily.

"You're still beautiful," Danny said kissing her on the forehead, "even if you do look like a tired wreck."

They sat down on the edge of the bed together, just holding each other for a moment and not speaking.

"Thank you," Danny finally said.

"For what?"

"For wanting me. For waking me up."

Sam thought for a moment with her head on Danny's shoulder. She knew what she wanted to ask but she was afraid of the answer. She took a deep breath and grabbed the edge of Danny's t-shirt, holding it tightly in her fist. "How did you end up like that in the first place?"

Sam felt the muscles in his body tense at her question. "Remember when I saw that light?" Sam nodded. "That was the beginning of it. He was calling me, trying to control me. After the fight, I was just so tired of it, of us, of fighting all the time. Remember when we said we were going to have happily ever after?"

Sam nodded dumbly.

"I just didn't want to fight anymore. I didn't want to do things wrong anymore. I thought, it's so much easier to think about things as a ghost, why not? I wanted all the stupid and complicated stuff to drop away so I wouldn't mess us up anymore. So I gave in."

Sam shuddered and buried her face in his shoulder. "I'm sorry. I'm so, sorry. I'm such an idiot."

"No!" Danny grabbed her shoulders and forced her to meet his blue eyes. "Don't you get it? What you said? You meant it didn't you? That stuff about wanting the me that you fight with and who drives you nuts and tells dumb jokes and all that stuff." Fear and doubt crept into Danny's voice as he spoke. What if she hadn't meant it? What if one of the greatest moments of his life, in which he had felt completely accepted and had completely accepted her, had been a lie? What if he still didn't measure up to what she needed him to be?

"Of course, I meant it!" Sam's voice broke through his growing panic and insecurity. "I guess, I never realized it until now but it's true. I want it all. The good, the bad, the annoying parts that drive me crazy. All of you." Sam tilted her head up to look at him in the eyes. "That's not weird, is it?"

"I hope not. I think want all of you too. Every obnoxious, bullheaded, over protective, eccentric part of you." Sam pinched him and he jumped. "Hey, I'm being honest!" He playfully grabbed the hand that had attacked him and held it on his lap. "That's not obsession. That's something else."

That's love, Sam thought, the words dying in her throat before she could speak them, the full power of the word too much for her to say out loud. Instead she kissed him, grateful for the familiar feeling of his lips.

"Danny?"

"Yeah?"

"Not that this heart to heart isn't great and all but do you think you could go ghost and fly us home now? We can talk about this stuff later."

Danny shook his head.

"I don't think so. I can still feel him tugging on my mind. There's a lot of power to what he's doing and it's not going away. At least if I stay human there's so many other things filling up my mind it makes it hard from him to get to me. I'm afraid if I go ghost I'll just end up under his power again."

"Oh," Sam bit her lip. "Then we need to think of something because I have good news and bad news."

"What's the good news?"

"The good news is that I don't think Heine realizes that you're still human and I think he seriously underestimated me. So at the very least we have the advantage of surprise."

"Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition!" One of Danny's hands flew up in the air dramatically as he delivered his line. Sam didn't laugh but she didn't shoot him a disapproving look, either.

"So, what's the bad news?" Danny asked.

"Remember those orange gems you stole?"

Danny nodded. "Yeah."

"Do you know what they're for?"

The boy shook his head. "No clue. All I know is that they're hard to find and don't last very long."

"Well," Sam took a deep breath recalling the hours of reading she'd done that afternoon. "Do you know what an aamil is?"

"No clue, except that's what Heine calls himself."

"Heine told me it's someone who controls ghosts. But he lied." Sam grabbed Danny's hand and fixed his eyes on hers. " An aamil is someone who consumes them."

* * *

**Authors Note: An aamil is actually a Muslim mystic who controls ghosts and performs exorcisms. I wanted a title that both sounded interesting and was not pulled from my own imagination. Even after the story changed a bit and his character changed, I decided to keep the title because I liked the word. No offense is meant to anyone by my blantant misuse of this title.**

**As always, thank you to everyone who is reading this story. If you read something you liked please let me know, it makes my day. If you read something you disliked, let me know that too, so I can do better next time.**

**Thanks again for reading.**

**Daphne**


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